


When the Rain Comes to Westeros

by aeroplane



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Free Cities, Multi-generational, Pre-Series, Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion, Reynes of Castamere, Westerling, Westeros
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-20
Packaged: 2018-03-25 00:11:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3789412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeroplane/pseuds/aeroplane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story that spans more than three decades and branches from Westeros to various Free Cities, When the Rain Comes to Westeros is the tale of Tyrion and Shae as it should be told.</p><p>In 261 AC, Ellyina Reyne's world is turned upside down at the hands of the lion - Tywin Lannister. Through the kindness of Tywin's brother Kevan, Ellyina is able to survive and grows up as a ward of the Westerlings, who eventually marry her to a fourth son. The child born of this union - Halaen, who later goes by Shae - will be used as Ellyina's revenge, the key to her salvation.</p><p>Life is not a song, however; no victory is as simple as a slit throat. Halaen must transcend her mother's desire for vengeance and forge a path of her own, and along the way, she meets many influential characters and helps change the course of Westerosi history for good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When the Rain Comes to Westeros

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suburb](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suburb/gifts).



_261 AC_

_Before the Rain_

Over the western hills, Reynard Reyne seemed to fly, his horse panting and wheezing with every touch of its hoof to the ground. Reynard urged it faster, faster, putting more and more distance between himself and the burnt shell of Tarbeck Hall. His men followed close behind. They did not stop until they reached the two meager towers that stood aboveground at Castamere; once their horses had been rubbed down and placed in the stables, they descended into the bowels of the keep, a palace transformed from the dried-up mines of gold, silver, and gems into a radiant underground castle filled with galleries and bedrooms, where some-three hundred Reynes resided. The news of the Tarbeck extermination was not shared with all. Only the brothers of the late lord Roger and the new lord Reynard were told, as well as some of the household men. The Tarbecks were gone, snuffed out, and Lannisters rode hard for Castamere. 

The men went about business as if nothing was amiss, careful not to let the threat of doom slip and frighten their wives and sisters and children. Under the ground, card games were played, harps were plucked, and children ran about with wooden sticks and dragon hats, screaming with delight as they always had.

Quietly, Reynard arranged for soldiers to be posted in all hallways, and began keeping stock of the food supplies even deeper in the mines. Enough remained for those underground to fend off starvation, but safety measures had to be taken.

Days after fleeing Tarbeck Hall, he sent a raven to find the Lannister riders and reach Tywin, so that they may begin parley. He offered to submit to him and his, if the Reynes would be forgiven for their treason. He asked for a Lannister brother to be sent down as a hostage against deceit.

He stood outside, towers looming over him, and watched as the black bird took wing in the black night scarcely graced by stars. The winds stirred, but he could not tell which way they blew.

*

The group of Lannister horsemen was small, and rode briskly, but not so fast as to make their horses foam. Tywin Lannister, eldest son of Lord Tytos and wielder of the lion's wrath and retribution, lead them on a golden stallion. To his side rode his brother Ser Kevan, a household knight and barely a man grown, with a green tint to his face.

The raven found them in an early purple dawn several leagues from the castle of Castamere. It quorked as it landed on a branch above Tywin, and leapt down as the lion offered it his gloved hand. He removed the scroll from the bird's claws and read quickly, green-gold eyes flicking back and forth, his face unreadable to his brother and his soldiers alike.

"What is it, Tywin?" Kevan asked as he saw his brother crumple the small paper up within his clenched fist.

"They seek parley, and ask for you to be sent down as a hostage."

Kevan's face grew impossibly greener, a shade of ocean green that rivaled the waters off of the Sapphire Isle perhaps not in its hue, but in its boldness.

Tywin looked up from the clenched paper in his fist to his brother, and shook his head. "You will not be leaving Lannister eyes, nor will I." He paced, glancing at the hills and fields where they sat on their horses. "The scroll was dated today; he must have sent it before the dawn. We'll ride until we see the castle, and then we shall set up camp for the night."

They pressed forward, horses kicking up mud and grass, the soldiers silent and Tywin musing at the front. A stream whispered not too far from where they rode.

*

By evenfall of the next day, word had broke out. Reynard had received no reply from Tytos' son, and now the entrances were being blocked off, slowly, with tons of stone, earth, and soil. After three young knights and a couple of bold bastards had gone above to fend off the soldiers shoveling the Reynes in, never to return, Reynard had ordered no one else out.

It was his steward that spread the word, though, all the truths of the Tarbecks and the silence from the Lannisters regarding Reynard's raven. Some retired to their chambers with their spouses, intending to spend the rest of their days in the arms of someone they loved - one truth, for them, in a time where the coming days held no certainty.

Others, mothers and fathers, held their children to their chests, weeping into hair, as the babes were given cups heaping with milk of the poppy so they would be in deep sleep when their world ended.

*

The waters crept through the fields and hills, a small stream that once whispered to itself now swelling behind the Lannister dam, now swarming over the rocks and flowers. The hissing sighs of a newborn flood could be heard for miles, but to those unknowing, it sounded like a soft rain.

Beyond the water's path, in sight of the castle, sat a row of tents that crackled in the wind like kisses of lightning, shrouded by campfire smoke. The Lannister banner, a golden lion on a field of crimson, flickered from stakes throughout the camp. Soldiers in similar garb, wearing crimson doublets or golden undershirts, jested drunkenly as they shared mead and conversation alike. Their voices carried over to a high hill, where Tywin, not one for boorish festivities, sat alone with a flagon of wine on his left and a plate of venison to his right. With a chunk of bloody meat attached to his fork, he pointed down to the castle with his utensil and spoke out amongst his own company.

"I believe bad weather is on its way."

_The day of the Rain_

She crawled away from her mother's tight sleeping grasp, grabbing her favorite book from the shelf nearby. She glanced at her sleeping sisters, one fourteen, and one eight. Her father cradled her mother from the far side of the bed. Their chests all rose and fell steadily. She slipped from the room, as quiet as she could, and made for the library.

The maester, as old as he was, had left the lantern burning, as she had hoped. No doubt he had shuffled off earlier in the night, head hung low in fear and sadness. She didn't understand the mood; the stories never told tales as sad as this. To her, this was only an obstacle. Some hero with secret dragons would come, scalding the bad lion men in one single puff, and he would have it burst the entrances with one single push of its mighty clawed feet. At least it left her to read in peace.

The ten year-old clambered into the soft greatchair, the silk thinned by years of use, maester and master alike all having their quietest moments in this very room.

She opened the book and began to read.

_Velacon was a simple boy born to a great family of stonemasons, his fathers and their sons all taking up the art of sculpting and building the greatest structures in the realm._

_He had never had a love for the great rocks of marble and basalt his father so adored. Velacon, instead, loved pebbles, nearer and dearer to him than anything else, and built castles for himself and his friends from piles of the small, smoothed stones._

From overhead, she heard heavy iron footsteps and the shouts of men. Muffled words hardly slipped through to her, but one word she made out among many: "burn."

She shivered with the thought of being burnt alive under the ground, but shook her head with the silliness of the thought. Fire cannot tear through stone; that's why the dragon would need to knock down the blockages, but burn the bad men.

She glanced back down to her book, but a soft sound caused her to look toward the heavy metal door that lead into the library. Over the tile, once dirt, but smoothed over and covered with a thin Pentoshi varnish, danced a small stream of water that whispered as it moved. She dismissed it as a simple leak from the nearby bathing area, and continued reading.

It wasn't until the water kissed her bare feet that she noticed that the entire room was flooding at an alarming pace.

She squeaked in fear, but clamped her hand over her mouth quickly, as if the men above threatened to hear her. Her family... what would become of them? But if she opened the door to look, surely she would be drowned. If water could find its way into here, through a door that hovered so closely over the ground so as to prevent damage to the books by leakage, then the rest of the underground keep was further submerged. The thought sent ice through her veins, and she felt hot tears threaten her eyes.

She scrambled from the chair and struggled to push it across the floor, tears streaming down her face as she aimed for the highest area of shelving in the northern corner of the room. The water was at her knees when she finally reached the wall, book between her teeth, and she climbed up the chair, standing on her toes as she pulled herself up to the top shelf.

As the water rose, she sobbed and continued reading, throwing herself into the tale to distract her from the end of the world.

_Velacon heaved his seventh wagon of pebbles up the hill near his castle, a loose sweat breaking out on his forehead. As he reached the peak, he smiled. "It's enough for a turret," he murmured to himself._

_The townsfolk had laughed when he had set off to build his beautiful pebble castle, but a castle made of a million pebbles will stand forever, and a castle of five hundred stones will tumble in a heartbeat._

The water grew too high for her to read, even on the highest shelf. Fighting back a wail of fear and heartache, she pushed the book up to the ceiling and pressed her face against it, taking deep breaths as the water rose to cover her upper torso, then her collarbone, then her neck.

No knight was coming.

The thought finally broke her silence, and she sobbed, the high wail swallowed by the sea inside the room.

She heard voices above her again, and footsteps that sounded close - too close - to where her face was.

She continued to sob as the water reached higher, craning her neck more with each minute.

As she felt the water lapping at her chin, she saw dirt fall from a patch of ceiling to her left and into the water. A heavier movement from above caused an even larger chunk of dirt fall. The voices became clearer.

"-van? I found this door," a young man's voice called. She held her breath, as if he might be able to hear her if she exhaled.

"Very good. Thank you. Go outside to Tywin. I will join you in a moment," a different voice called, growing closer.

With her lungs burning, she let out a burst of breath and began to sob again, the cold feeling of fear spreading over her even faster than the water had.

The ceiling began to weep dirt, turning the water to a pale tan color, and the particles tickled her chin. She heard pounding and clicking. She closed her eyes and tried her hardest to imagine it was the builder Veracon building his great pebble stronghold, and not a terrible lion man coming to kill her. Her tears intermingled with the cool water, and soon, she was sure, there would be no difference at all.

A great crunching sound was heard, and she opened her eyes and saw a small patch of light from its direction. More dirt fell until finally, she saw a hand from the corner of her eye. Her gasp of fear was involuntary. After she let it slip, her heart pounded, a mix of fire and ice swimming through her body as she tried her hardest to squeeze further into the high shelf, to no avail.

Unable to control herself, she looked at where the hand had come from, holding her breath so that she could turn. Only her eyes sat above the water.

A face poked in, upside down, a pasty, chubby face, with golden hair on the bottom and top, half-submerged in the water. It was surrounded by yellow light, undoubtedly by a lantern its owner held. It was the light that gave her away, a small shadow in the bit of light.

"Hello, sweetling," the face said, not unkindly. She whimpered despite herself.

Still upside-down, the face continued. "My name is Kevan Lannister. Do you know who I am?"

She nodded, getting every bit of her face wet. She pressed back into the book to breathe.

"My brother is Tywin Lannister. He did this." He sounded almost apologetic. She was confused.

He pulled his face back a bit so that he may look at her with eyes above the water. His yellow eyebrows knitted in an unexplainable emotion. The sound of the water lapping at the walls and shelves was all she heard for a long, aching moment.

"May I ask who you are?" He asked.

Half-muffled by the book, she responded, slowly. "My name is Ellyina Reyne."

"Ellyina, I need you to trust me. Take my hand."

He pulled his face from the hole and threw his hand in instead, but she only stared at it from her shelf. She did not trust the lion man. She trusted her book, and she trusted that the end of the world was here, but she did not trust this man.

He popped his face in again. "My lady, please. I'm not going to behead you. A Lannister always pays their debts, and a lie is a debt in its own way. I am telling you the truth; you will not be harmed."

His hand replaced his face again, and Ellyina's survival instincts overrode her apprehension. "I'm going to hold my breath and swim to you, and if you don't pull me up, I'm going to swim back and wait here and die." She sounded petulant. She thought she heard him chuckle.

"I will pull you up, sweetling."

She sucked in a deep breath and, almost submerging herself, had another thought. "Will you take my book first?"

Now he truly did laugh. "Yes. Hand it over."

She struggled to pull her arm free of the water and position it at an angle where she could slide the book on the ceiling without letting it fall. A moment passed, and Kevan had taken her book and placed it on the aboveground castle's floor with an audible thud. "Now, you."

She took a deep breath and dove, closing her eyes to prevent the sting of dirt and swum the few feet to reach the hole in the ceiling. She reached blindly for a moment, her lungs beginning to twitch with fire, and she almost swam back to the shelf when she felt a strong grip on her wrist pull her through. The bones in her arm felt as if they were being torn from one another, but the feeling went away as soon as she felt her body begin to leave the water, and she instead focused on the feel of her nightclothes sticking steadily to her. She blushed, knowing that the man could see her bare flesh underneath.

When she was fully free, he stood her next to him. She attempted to look around, but all she could see was Kevan Lannister - a big, portly man, seemingly fresh from boyhood - and a wooden trap door next to him, where she had been pulled from. She covered her nonexistant breasts and her lower regions with her hands.

"Pah. I'm not going to look, sweetling. I've more honor than that." Kevan spoke with fierce sincerity, and the thought sent chills down her spine. Did he speak like this to fool her? Did he lie and pull her free so he could butcher her here? She began to cry again, this time quietly, at the thought.

He knelt down and looked into her brown eyes, the soft light of the lantern his only guide. "I'm not going to hurt you, Ellyina Reyne. I know my family hurt your family but I am not going to hurt you, do you understand?"

She shook her head in refusal, because she did not trust him. He looked at her sadly for a moment before embracing her, bringing warmth to the wet girl through his touch. "You'll be safe if you listen. You have to listen." He pulled back and looked at her again, bringing up a finger to wipe away her tears. Finally, she nodded.

"I have a sack with me. I told my brother I would be finding treasures from your family to take with us, but I am going to put you inside of it. Do you understand?" Again, she shook her head. Why would he put her in a sack, if not to take her to hurt her? He sighed. "I can't just walk out there with you. I've got to hide you. If you go with me you can't make any noise."

"Why can't I stay here?" She asked in a whisper.

"You'll die here, sweetling. How old are you?"

"I'm ten," she said stubbornly. "I've read stories. I can survive on my own. This is my home." Her tears came slower now, still hot.

"This is not your home. Not anymore. Home is not safe. The water where you were - that's everywhere underground, do you know this?"

She looked at him and curled her lips back, feeling another wave of heavy sobs punch her gut. She nodded.

"I've got to get you away from home if you want to live. You do want that, don't you?"

She was no fool. She knew this man likely risked his life by even talking with her now. She nodded.

"You need to get in the sack. You need to keep quiet. I will not let you out of my sight and I will not let you in harm's way." His eyes seemed to glow like green fire in the light. "Do you trust me?"

She glanced down into the black watery hell he had pulled her from. She nodded.

He leaned down and pulled a cloth sack from the floor, a sack big enough to fit her and even one of her sisters. The thought caused an audible squeak to leave her mouth. Kevan pet her hair for a quick moment before opening it up and crouching so that the sack's bottom sat on the ground. "You'll want to make yourself small," he said lightly, trying to smile for her, but there was a heavy sadness in his eyes. She nodded and stepped in, one foot, then the other, then sat down and placed her head in her lap. Her tears kissed her thighs, but she felt nothing. Water dripped from her hair.

"I'm going to pick the sack up. Okay?" He looked down on her, the light making a sort of halo around his head. Again, she nodded, and he closed the sack and hefted her into the air. She felt a drooping motion and felt the sack graze Kevan's back for a quick moment. "We can't forget your book, can we?" He whispered. Despite herself, she smiled.

He walked down the darkened halls of Castamere, the sack bumping against him occasionally. He made no noises of struggle or discomfort.

Eventually, the soft sighing of his boots on the floors lead to the sweet crunching of grass on the far end of the castle. From within the sack, Ellyina could smell the morning dew, and behind that sat the stench of horse manure and unwashed soldiers. She heard the whinny of the horses, and the jesting of the soldiers, as Kevan approached the Lannister horsemen.

"What've you got, Kevan?" A young man asked, his voice different than the one that had announced the trap door's discovery.

"Soggy books!" Kevan announced, his voice more boisterous and powerful than it had been when speaking to Ellyina. The horsemen laughed.

"Dead trees, dead Reynes, eh?" Another soldier called, further from Kevan. The Lannister laughed.

A cool voice from even further away cut off the comradery, a harsh knife gliding through the air. "What do you intend to do with wet books, Kevan?" It asked.

"I'm told the paste they're bound with helps with preventing, er, fertility," Kevan said, a smile evident in his voice. The horsemen laughed, but the voice that had asked the question said nothing.

A long moment passed, a moment where the night birds cawed and insects buzzed, before the voice responded. "Very well. See to it that they work, then. I'll not have you having bastards before your twentieth nameday."

"Aye," Kevan said, still sounding joyful. Ellyina found herself wishing that she could have pretended as well as Kevan did. She would have gotten away with much more...

Again, her thoughts sent her reeling. No more lying to her mother, no more screaming at her sisters and begging her father for more books. No more of aunt Ellyn's stories, or the cook's dumplings, or the maester's lessons. Tears streamed again, and it was a struggle not to sniffle.

She heard more nonsense talk from the soldiers go on for a while as saddles and reins jingled. She heard footsteps approaching where Kevan stood, only feet from where he had set down the sack that she sat in.

"You've checked the entrances? Fully sealed?" The man called Tywin asked.

"Yes. It would take a giant to break through." Kevan said, his voice grim.

"Aren't we lucky they're all dead, then." Tywin replied. His footsteps receded.

Moments later, Kevan's brother spoke again, this time further away, and louder. "Burn the castle to the ground. If I ever come back here, I expect to see only ruin. Leave nothing untouched."

His soldiers harrumphed in acknowledgement, Kevan making a small noise to indicate that he understood. From where Tywin's voice had come, Ellyina now heard the sound of a galloping horse fading into the distance. There was silence in the air for a moment, before Kevan rallied the men again. "You heard him!" He cried. "Burn it."

Footsteps rushed all around, and she heard the clank of logs and laughter of men. It was not long before she heard the song of flames passing her by, and shortly after that, the heat of the burning castle reached her, even inside the sack.

Her home was burning, and she could not even see it. Everything she had known had vanished in a matter of hours. The sobs that took her now were too strong to be controlled; she could only pray that no one spied too closesly on the shivering sack.

After what felt like a lifetime to her, a lifetime scarred with ash and water and forever sleeping brothers and sisters and mothers and fathers, she was finally lifted by Kevan again and brought to his saddle, where he tied the sack with a triple knot.

"Why not throw your books in the wagon, Kevan?" A soldier shouted.

"What, and let you fuck all the maids you want without suffering the birth of a bastard? No, these books are mine, Ryven." The soldier laughed and asked no more questions.

Ellyina felt the warmth of the horse next to her and thought of the impending journey. Where would Kevan take her? Surely not to where the lions lived - they would recognize her, right? Or would he disguise her and take her as a servant? Or -

A thought leaked into her brain that made her eyes widen. He had promised not to harm her, but he hadn't said what would come after they left Castamere. What if he sold her to slavers? She had heard horrible tales from Reyne servants, tales of the tattooed slaves of Volantis, of girls as young as she serving in pleasure houses of Lys... if no one knew she was a noble, then no one would know she had no place being a slave.

She wanted to cry out, but knew that doing so meant death. She had to trust the man - this one golden lion amid the grey and mangy lions he was surrounded by. She only prayed he hadn't pretended with her, too, as he had with his brother and their soldiers.

*

After a day and a half of riding, of bumping against the horse's flesh as it galloped, her teeth chattering with the movement, Ellyina felt the horse begin to slow. "We'll stop here, men," she heard Kevan call.

Footsteps came rushing to their position. "Where would you like your tent, Ser Kevan?" A young boy's voice asked, presumably Kevan's squire.

"Over there by the oak should do quite nicely. And light the brazier, would you?" The Lannister replied.

"As you wish." The footsteps receded, and Ellyina heard the clamor of men setting down their packs and rubbing down their horses. She could not see outside to determine the time, the cloth too thick for light to break through.

Gently, Kevan hefted her from his horse's saddle and walked forward, his footsteps causing the grass beneath his feet to sigh. As they drew closer to their destination, she heard the sound of cloth flapping in the wind and an occasional sigh from what could only be Kevan's frustrated squire.

"That will be enough, Ive. I can finish the rest myself," her savior said.

"N-no, I'm sorry, the wind was hard to fight through, I can finish it, I -"

"Ive, you did well. A man must stay humble; allow me to finish. It's only a few poles to fiddle with."

"As you say. I will find a good fire from which to light the brazier, then."

She heard Kevan laugh, a quick burst from his mouth that sounded more warm than mocking. "We'll need the brazier first. It's in the third cart from the end."

His squire struggled with his reply, eventually deciding not to speak at all, and his footsteps faded away as the grass crunched beneath them.

"He's a kind boy. Nervous, but dutiful. A Swyft - the father's got a mind to marry me to his daughter." After a moment, Ellyina realized he was talking to her, although fruitlessly. She did not reply; the fear of being heard was too great.

He set the sack down on the grass and she cherished the feel of solid ground beneath her. From her close right she heard the rustle of material and metal, and grunts followed, as Kevan finished assembling his tent.

"The brazier, I've got the brazier." She heard from behind her, and labored footsteps approached and passed her. She heard Kevan's grunt of acknowledgement, and more rustling as he finalized his makeshift home. Ive's footsteps passed her again, this time drifting to her left as he saught a fire from which to light the brazier.

Many moments passed, Ellyina sitting in silence, but eventually Ive returned, the sound of flames accompanying him.

"Wonderful job. Thank you, Ive," she heard Kevan say, not unkindly.

"Shall I get your sack?" She heard a hand clutch at the top of the sack, and cold ran through her body, tears threatening to fall again, but once again, she was saved by the lion man.

"No, that won't be necessary," Kevan said, his voice strained. The hand moved from the sack. "Fetch my other bags from the carts, if you'd be so kind. After that, rub down my horse and ensure she's fed, and then you can find yourself a fire and some food."

"My pleasure, thank you, Ser."

Ive's footsteps left her again, and Kevan's approached. She felt the familiar gentleness of Kevan's strength as he lifted her sack and brought her into his tent. She still felt grass beneath her, yet it was masked by a thin layer of the tent's cloth. The brazier crackled from nearby.

Material rustled behind her, and Ive entered. She heard a dropping of bags, most likely unintentional. "I'm so sorry, Ser. Your bags, um,"

Kevan interrupted him, warmth in his tone. "You overreach, Ive. Next time, take two or three each trip. Not all seven. Thank you, nonetheless."

Ive laughed nervously. "N-now I'm to see to your horse. Good night, Ser Kevan."

"Good night."

Material flapped again, and Ive was gone.

From outside the tent she could hear the faint noise of crackling fires, whinnying horses, and soldiers jesting and telling tales. She knew Kevan was near her now, but was unaware of his actions - until she heard a sizzling from the brazier, and the smell of meat seeped through the cloth. Silverware and clay pots clanked, and her stomach grumbled in anticipation. The thought of an impending meal helped her, although only slightly, to take her mind off of her family's too-fresh extinction.

The sizzling of the brazier ended shortly, and her stomach seemed to scream. She looked up, anticipating the opening of the sack, but saw only darkness as long as she did.

She felt the ground shift slightly to her left, and heard the occasional sound of a fork scraping clay. Fury and envy burned in her, quick as lightning. However, logic nipped at the back of her mind; Kevan had saved her _life._ He had no obligation to feed her, she knew, yet this terrified her. Perhaps he aimed to keep her alive, only to starve her, giving her a slow and agonizing death as punishment for trying to stay alive in the library. She should have simply accepted her fate when she realized that her mother, father, sisters, and all other kin were dead. She should have -

The sack opened.

"My apologies. A lady should always be allowed to eat first, but I had to ensure that everyone outside was occupied." Kevan's voice was a soft whisper, something she had to lean into to clearly understand. "I know this is far different from the suckling pig and roasted hens a noblewoman dines on, but it's what I've got. Here," he said, passing her a full plate of what looked to be some sort of meat paired with black, tarlike beans. "Salt beef and beans."

She took the plate, eyeing him carefully, and her courtesies slipped away like a kerchief in heavy wind. Without even a word of thanks, she demanded, "Where do you plan to take me?"

Kevan looked at her and laughed, his eyes squeezing shut, clutching at his gut. "My, you do get straight to the point," he whispered. He touched her hand, which still held the plate, as of yet unindulged. "Don't worry, Ellyina Reyne. I will not be taking you back to Casterly Rock so my brother can torture you."

She hadn't even thought of that. Her eyes grew wide.

" _Eat,_ " he commanded, nodding at the plate. "Eat while I talk." After a pause, he spoke again. "There's no poison, I assure you. I give you my word as a Lannister. As a follower of the seven. As a Westerosi and a man, as a -"

She took a bite. He smiled.

"On the morrow I will be peeling off from the other horsemen, with you in tow. I'm sorry to say that I won't be able to take you out of the sack even after I do so, on the unlucky chance that we come across trouble. I want no one to know of your presence." She had stopped eating, and he eyed the plate again. "Eat, Ellyina. You won't be able to for a few more days."

"Why?" She asked, swallowing a thick piece of meat.

"Keep eating, and I'll tell you."

She complied.

"I aim to take you to the Crag, the seat of House Westerling. They are not an unkind house, and take honor rather seriously. It's much closer than Casterly Rock, but still a few days north. I won't be stopping after tonight; I want to ride until we get there."

"Will I -"

He silenced her with a hand. "Eat."

He leaned in close and looked into her eyes. For a moment, she swam only in green pools, before he diverted his head to whisper closely in her ear. "You are not Ellyina Reyne anymore, girl. Do you understand?"

She did not, and her face reflected so.

"When I bring you to the Crag, I will not be going in with you. I will be bringing you less than a mile before the castle can be seen by the eye, and leaving you there. I want - no, need - I need you to play a role when you approach the castle, okay?"

Warily, she nodded.

"Ellyina Reyne is dead, to everyone. Ravens have been sent, by Tywin and the other soldiers, I'm sure. The whole realm knows of the Reyne-Tarbeck extinction by now." His words sounded harsh, but were softened by his tone and furrowed eyebrows. He placed his hand on her head and smiled sadly when tears began to brim in her eyes. "Do you know the Volantene accent?"

She nodded. "My mother was Volantene."

"Yes, I know. That's why this farce is your best bet for survival. Your name is Ila. You lived in Volantis, daughter of some minor noble house, and the red priests took you from them. Do you know who the red priests are?"

"Worshipers of the Lord of Light. Bad men, who use blood for their magic and evil spirits as their servants," Ellyina whispered. She had read about them in one of the books that now lay rotting away in the library.

"Exactly right. And in truth, sometimes they take children and perform rituals with them, sometimes they hurt them, and sometimes they don't. You, as Ila, were taken, but not hurt. You were taken, and hidden in darkness, and what feels like a few days ago - you'll say this - you were placed on a ship, sack on your head, and you were brought here, and dropped by the sea, and told to go south by a big, smelly, fat red priest who smelled of wine and smoke. Okay?"

Ellyina wanted to protest, but understood that this could not be avoided. She had read stories of boys and girls playing pretend at being other people, to rescue their lover or kill a villain. Never had she read something so brutally honest as pretending in order to survive, but she knew the importance behind the act. She nodded.

"And you know why you must do this?"

"Westerlings are bannermen to the Lannisters. Any... loyal subject would... would tell Tywin if I told them I was a Reyne." The words were true, she knew, but she felt like a liar, almost, as she said this to the brother of Tywin.

"Smart girl. Lovely Ellyina," Kevan murmured, petting her hair. "This is no more than a poorly-sewn stitch on a fatal wound, but... dear girl, I'm so sorry." He looked ready to weep. She felt the same, too. "I'm so sorry for what my brother did."

Despite everything, she found herself comforting the guilt- and grief-stricken man. Her small hand touched his cheek, a gesture of kindness. "Please don't be sorry, Kev -" She, as a lady, corrected herself, "Ser Kevan." He laughed. "Thank you for saving me," she whispered hoarsely, the tears burning again.

Kevan smiled sadly down at her for a long moment before pulling his face away from her hand, and his hand away from her head. "I am only glad I found you when I did." He glanced around the tent and eyed the dying fire of the brazier. "You've got to sleep. Did you manage to while riding? I imagine not."

"No," she said truthfully. The constant bouncing had done nothing but keep her eyes open, head pounding as heavily as her heart had when she had feared for her life in the library. While she could not sleep during the journey, she had managed to daydream, filling her mind with pretty happinesses to distract her from the bodies bloating beneath Castamere.

She had thought of Velacon, the unlikely hero, and his castle of a million pebbles, how it had saved Velacon's family and the surrounding town from barbaric invaders. The castle of five hundred stones had tumbled under the force of the invaders' tree trunk battering rams, but the pebble keep had stood, and it was pebbles dropped from high above that killed the attempted conquerers. Velacon the Victor, the townsfolk had called him after the battle.

Kevan began to pour a flagon of water over the brazier, bringing darkness and loud hissing. "Sleep now, then," he said, continuing to pour. "Take my cot. I've a mind to sleep outside tonight. The stars are lovely in the summer... and I've got to keep everyone out." He grinned at her, a hint of sadness in it, but she was beginning to tell that his warmth towards her was not feigned.

She did not even complain that he had offered his cot. Perhaps a deadly cobra awaited her at the bottom of it, hungry for a taste of her ankle, but her eyes were heavy, and the promise of sleep, an escape from the sorrows snapping at her, was sweeter than summerwine.

Kevan bid her goodnight quietly, exiting the tent, and she fell asleep swaddled in crimson robes, her head on a pillow laced with gold.

*

The next morning, first light seeped heavily through the crimson tent, yet Ellyina was not awoken for quite some time. Even when Kevan shook her, murmuring, "It's time we go," she was only half-awake enough to coax her body into the sack, closing her eyes and drifting off again immediately as the cloth closed around her. The previous two or so days of sleep deprivation had hit her hard, and her body drank the replenishing darkness with vigor. The Seven favored her this day, it seemed, for she did not dream at all.

Kevan handled the sack more gently than usual, and when he set her on the dewy grass, he ensured to cover her hiding place, in case of any sudden jerks she made in her sleep.

She finally awoke completely when she felt the groundlessness beneath her body and the warmth of horse flesh on her side. Around her, reins jingled and soldiers murmured, as the striking of camp was finalized.

"Men," Kevan called, loud enough for all to hear. A moment passed for all eyes to turn to him. "Today, I will be splitting off from you lot. I intend to take ship from Banefort to Oldtown. You know the way to Casterly Ro-"

He was cut off by a loud soldier rather close to him, on his left. "What business do you have in Oldtown, Ser?" Murmurs rose up from the other soldiers, quiet whispers and considerations.

"I cannot turn this into paste on my own," Kevan said, sly glee in his tone, as he hefted the sack up to show his intent. The murmurs quieted, but only for a moment.

"Mm, Ser Kevan, I bet you intend to go to Oldtown, I do," a man further away began, "but I also happen to know that the finest whores occupy the brothels in Banefort, and even them Braavosi courtesans are known to dock there. Do you plan to make paste with them, I wonder?"

A raucous laughter rose from the soldiers, and after a moment of silence, Kevan joined in, his laugh hearty and sincere. "You've always been a quick one, Mirlen. Exterminating rebels does raise a sort of... lust in me." More laughter. Ellyina felt a sudden discomfort in her stomach at his words - false japing or no, they still clawed deep. "I'll not say more, for fear of my brother's patriarchal disappointment." He paused for a moment to think. "That aside, you lot know the way back to Casterly Rock, and I've a feeling that Tywin may have satchels of gold for all of you, for your help in our extinguishing of that little rebellion."

There was laughter again, but this time it was harsh and cynical, sharp barks from the soldiers. "Do you really think that's true, Ser Kevan?" A different voice asked.

"I did not think there was truth in the thought that my brother would go so far as to push two Houses into extinction, yet here we are." Kevan's voice was commanding, but Ellyina felt that she detected a slice of coldness in his words. Perhaps her stories had broadened her imagination too much, but she doubted that Kevan agreed with what his brother had done.

Kevan let his words linger and drift over the men before him and spread throughout the camp, the intonations floating through the wind, like leaves on a seaside tree. "Anyhow. I'll be off. Safe travels to all of you." She felt her position shift with the new weight of the knight on the horse, and heard the slide of reins as he drew command of his mare.

"Safe travels to you as well, Ser. The paths off the road aren't nearly as guarded as the way to Lannisport. Surely word's been spread of the Reynes and Tarbecks as well, and a bold man might have a mind to fight you for your part in it." This time, Ellyina recognized the voice - Ive, Kevan's squire, who was no doubt grateful he did not have to accompany the knight to Banefort and on the water.

"If anyone dares, I've a big sack of books with which to hit them with." This sent the soldiers cackling again, and Kevan drove his heels into his horse and departed. As they grew further and further from the camp, Ellyina swore she could still hear them laughing. Perhaps they'd all laugh themselves to death.

When Kevan was sure that not even the finest-tuned of ears could hear them, he spoke. "Truthfully, if anyone dares harm me for my part in that mummery, I may let them. You could be better off with someone loyal to you."

Her fear of being heard by outside ears still too great, Ellyina did not respond. After a minute or so, Kevan grunted. "Smart girl. Well, if it isn't in your heart to respond, forgive me if I continue to speak. If anyone chances upon us, I can simply chalk it up to my past few days - I've seen a new breed of death, and I'm still not sure how I'm handling it." The horse was panting with Kevan's pace, and the speed was so great that somehow Ellyina hardly even touched the horse; she flew at its side, streaming like some chunky banner in the air.

"How are _you_ taking it?" Kevan asked, and definitely not to the horse.

The speed at which they rode did make Ellyina more comfortable speaking, as she could sense that not even the fastest horse could catch them for some time, not if a Lannister rider had left to follow them after they were out of eyesight and earshot. "It does feel like it's a dream, at points. Something out of a horrible tale my sisters would tell," she murmured, unsure if Kevan had heard her. She continued, "and other times, I wish I had died with them, I wish I hadn't snuck out to read, and I could have just died in my sleep as they hopefully did. But now I'm not even me anymore, and someone who was supposed to be terrible is saving my life."

Kevan snorted at her last few words. "Gods, girl, you're ten. You've such a life ahead of you, especially if the Westerlings take a liking to you. You can still be anything you wish. If you were dead you'd be... dead." She could tell his words were intended to comfort her, but instead they stung.

"But I'd be with them. With Syressa and Pavenne, and my mother and my father, and everyone else Uncle brought underground. Even the Hills are dead, all the Reyne bastards... they were never allowed to belong to the house but they died as if they had been." Her tears came now, angry and swift. She hadn't had proper time to mourn, a sit-down time to weep everything away and come back clean, as Mother had told her to do when she got sad. Short bursts of sadness were only making her furious, as she felt they did not honor the memory of her family as they should be honored.

Kevan was silent, considering. "Are you glad, even a bit, that you still live?" His tone sounded hurt, but Ellyina was unsure if that was because he found her ungrateful, or if he was upset that he had made her more sad by saving her life.

"I am. And I am grateful to you, Ser Kevan."

"I am grateful as well. The extinction of a house is a harrowing thing." His words seemed to end the conversation, and for a long while, all Ellyina heard was the pounding of the horse's hooves as well as its ragged breaths.

She found herself finally nodding off when Kevan spoke again. "I do apologize for not letting you out of the sack. It's a safety measure, just in case we do get... approached."

Sleepily, Ellyina replied, "I understand. I wouldn't be able to sleep if I was on top of the horse."

Kevan took the hint, not unkindly delivered, and let her sleep.

*

When Ellyina woke, she was unsure how long she had slept for. Hunger scratched at her belly, but she did her best to ignore it, instead focusing on the intense feeling in her bladder.

"Kevan?" She asked, loudly, so the Lannister might hear her.

"Yes, Ellyina Reyne?" Most times he said her name, he said it fully, as if to hammer in the idea that despite what may come, she was still who she was born as.

"I have to make water." She tried her best not to sound impatient, although she felt it. She had to go. Bad.

Kevan sighed, although it was ponderous, not exasperated. "Can you hold it a bit, until we find a place more wooded?"

"Yes," Ellyina said, praying that woods came quickly.

And so they did. Not fifteen minutes later did the horse begin to slow, and Ellyina heard the trickle of a stream and squirmed at the noise.

Kevan unfastened the sack and placed it on the ground, unlacing it so that Ellyina could climb out. "I've got to give the horse some rest anyhow, so I don't injure her," he said as he saw her emerge, squinty-eyed at the light.

"Before you do that, could you turn around?" She asked, eyeing a tree. He nodded and turned, his back now to her. "And... cover your ears, until I'm back?" Her voice had a hint of embarassment in it.

Kevan laughed. "I wouldn't dream of doing anything else, little lady." He placed his hands over his ears and hummed, and she marveled for a moment at the trust he placed in her. She could run off right now, if she truly wanted. But if she did, she would probably die. She was better staying with him.

She squatted behind a tree and pulled her nightgown, now dry yet mildewy, up above her thighs, making water quickly so that Kevan could rub down his horse and they could be on their way again. Her dreams in her sack-sleep had been riddled with Lannister soldiers racing after them, having somehow figured out Kevan's true plan.

She returned to Kevan and tapped his shoulder, an indicator that he could resume his business. He smiled down at her, almost fondly. "Have you ever cared for a horse before, my lady?" He pet the creature's muzzle, and she whinnied. Ellyina shook her head.

"I'll show you, then." He removed the saddle and reins from the horse, explaining his actions as he went, then placed his hands in the water so as to wash the sweat off the mare. "Her name is Castylia. Born of the Rock's finest stallion and a Prester mare. She came out backwards, being born, and everyone thought she wouldn't make it. But I wanted to keep her; I knew she'd grow strong." He paused to look directly at Ellyina. "Sometimes the obstacles in our lives are what fortify us."

She knew he meant that her family's extinction had the potential to turn her into a strong girl and woman, but the pain was still too raw for her to find real truth in his words. "That's how the stories go," she murmured, finding herself about to tell him about Velacon, but stopping. The story of the pebble boy was a special one to her, and she wasn't about to tell this Lannister - although he seemed to be a good one - one of her special secrets. Kevan did not find anything amiss, however, and continued to explain the process of caring for a horse after a ride.

When Castylia had rested for an hour or so, Kevan opened the sack and allowed Ellyina to step in again. "We should be there by dusk, I think. I know you've got to be hungry, but they will be breaking fast around the time you'd be arriving - your sincerity in your hunger will be convincing." He smiled apologetically.

He was about to close the sack again, but she popped her head out. "Are you truly going to Oldtown? You won't have any books."

Kevan placed his hand on her head and smiled. "I'm not one to lie, sweetling." He screwed his face up, considering. "Well, I will be lying somewhat, but a lie that big has to be followed up on. I can't just show up at Casterly Rock a week from now after saying I planned to go to Oldtown; that trip's at least a fortnight. As for the books... accidents happen on ships. I'll be sure to bring back a token of my travels, though, for all who may doubt me."

"The paste, right." Her voice hinted at childish disgust. At ten, Ellyina's knowledge of sex and fertility and whores was limited, and truthfully, she was grateful. The talk of it still grossed her out, though someday she would have her blood and become a true woman, fit for childbearing; she prayed it did not come for many moons.

The knight detected her disgust and chuckled. "Truth be told, my lady, I may simply pick up some more supplies for our maester at the Rock. He never outright asks my father, for he knows he'll grant anyone's wish - he's feeble, you know - but the maester fears Tywin's wrath if he takes advantage of my lord father's generosity. Tywin may take it as manipulation. It's better I fetch what we need."

Ellyina wanted to talk about Tywin more, now that his name stirred up less sadness and more anger, but she knew that suspicious soldiers could be on their tail at any moment. She nodded and crouched into the sack, leaning her head against its side and closing her eyes as she was hefted back onto Castylia's side. Sleep took her quickly.

*

Ellyina woke to the sound of Kevan's voice as he slowed his mare. She grumbled upon waking.

"We've passed the final village before the Crag," he said, noting her awakening. "I've got to be letting you out soon."

She said nothing, but rubbed her eyes, feeling the horse slow from a gallop into a canter, then a trot, and then she walked for a while before coming to a complete halt. Kevan dismounted and removed the sack from the saddle, unlacing it so that Ellyina could climb out. A purple dawn kissed the sky, clouds rolling slowly across. Fields laced with hills swam before them.

Kevan grabbed her shoulders and looked at her. "Tell me who you are."

"Ellyina Rey-"

"No. Tell me _who you are._ "

She got his hint, remembering the role she had to play. "My name is Ila," she said, a Volantene twist to her words.

"Good. Channel every feeling you have about your family into today, Ila. Cry for the Westerlings, let them see how truly and honestly scared you are."

She wanted to protest and say that she wasn't scared, but she was. With her family gone, Ser Kevan Lannister was the only person she had to look out for her, and now he would be leaving her too. She felt tears begin to build, and her cheeks ached. "Thank you for saving me," she croaked, looking into the green pools of his eyes.

He pressed his forehead to hers. "I would have saved more if I had had time. I want you to know that."

She nodded, the knot in her throat growing. She did not want the man who had saved her to see her cry, though, not when she was supposed to pretend and be strong. Instead, she let a vein of courage run through her. "When I rally the Westerlings to storm Casterly Rock, I'll make them spare you." She was half-serious.

Kevan laughed, but it was not joyful. "I thank you for the kindness, little lady, but if there's any truth in your words, you need to take a flame to that dream immediately. You are now, and forever, Ila of Volantis. Ellyina Reyne is dead to everyone except you and me. Even if you rallied the Westerlings against us for some other cause, think of the Tarbecks and your family. Tywin would not bat an eye if another House rose against him, even if they were lead by a lady of your might." He was completely serious.

And he was right. She nodded. "I wish you many moons of happiness, Ser Kevan. You deserve it more than many I've known."

He smiled and leaned up to kiss her forehead. "You deserve it just as much as I. Now go. Run. Run up that hill and do not stop until you reach the castle. Let the guards see you ragged and out of breath, a scared little Volantene much too far from home, with no hope of going back. Do you understand?"

She nodded, about to turn, when she remembered. "The book I gave you when you saved me. Where is it? Can I have it?"

Kevan shook his head, but spoke before Ellyina could protest. "You can't show up with anything. Red priests do no kindnesses to their prisoners; you will not have had much food, let alone a book. I'll have a rider send a goodwill package to you when Casterly Rock receives word from the Westerlings about their new Volantene ward. Your book will be inside. You have my oath." He took her hand and kissed it, then pushed her gently towards the hill. "Go. Be safe."

She ran.

**Author's Note:**

> If you've read this, thank you. You may notice that I've another story by a very similar title already written and posted; that will be taken down in a week, once I re-route any newcomers, if there are any. This chapter is an extensive rewrite of that one, as I now know how I want the story to go, for the most part.
> 
> This will be a long ride, and I hope you aren't disappointed.
> 
> *update 4.21.2015. Thank you to user suburb (who this piece is gifted to) for his extensive help in editing the intro. Paragraphs 17, 18, and 19, were contributed by him.


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